


Try Harder To Punish Me

by mayhem (zidle)



Series: Forged in Ice, Raised with Wolves [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Arranged Marriage, Arya is 14/15, Eventual Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Eventual Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, F/M, Forced Marriage, Joffrey Is A Baratheon, No Cersei/Jaime, Sansa is 17, Sansa is a bit more Northern than in canon and doesnt love the South, no red wedding, no war of the five kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 14:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20472566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zidle/pseuds/mayhem
Summary: After King Robert Baratheon and Lord Eddard Stark were both killed by assassins sent from across the Narrow Sea, Lord Robb Stark demanded the betrothal between his sister Lady Sansa and King Joffrey be broken and both of his sisters sent back to the North for their own safety. Insulted by the demand, King Joffrey broke the betrothal, but rather than letting the Stark girls go home, he set to marry the pretty elder one to the ugliest lord he could think of, and the boyish younger one to a rough bastard he had picked off the Street of Steel.





	Try Harder To Punish Me

**Author's Note:**

> Changed a few things from canon:
> 
> 1\. Robert and Ned were killed by an assassin sent by Viserys  
2\. Joffrey is true born  
3\. Sandor is Lord of Clegane Keep, not a sworn shield for Joffrey

Her first thought was that the man with the scars had the Northern look about him. Her children would look like her kinsmen, Sansa mused, rather than the blond-headed folk who filled the West. If she was never to see the North again, she would at least be reminded of her home whenever she looked upon her children.

The man who was to be her husband had not looked at anyone other than the King since he entered the throne room, bowing stiffly to His Grace as if he had to force himself into the motion. He was tall, and even at the new height Sansa stood at since she had come of age, he would tower over her. He was broad as well, shoulders set wide and large muscles filling out his tunic and doublet, marking him as not just a lord but a warrior. He pushed his long hair out of his eyes when he straightened from the bow, and though it fell to cover some of his scars, she could still see how much damage his face had seen. The side that faced her was a maze of ropey skin that stretched from hairline and down his neck, causing a droop in his brow and a mangled mess where his ear should have been.

His face was a horror, but Sansa was a Northern lady. She was a proper Northern lady and she would not insult her betrothed, or show weakness in front of the King, by being outwardly bothered by his appearance. She would not disgrace her house by attempting to get out of this punishment King Joffrey had set upon her. She would be as resilient as a Stark and as honorable as a Tully and she would marry this monstrous-looking man.

Sansa stood in the gallery of the Court, waiting and watching, as the King addressed her betrothed.

“Lord Clegane! How wonderful it is to have you back at Court, and for such a happy occasion as well!” King Joffrey had never been happier than when he was causing the misery of others, and his marriage plans for the Stark sisters were meant to cause much misery.

“Aye, I’ve heard you’ve a bride for me, your grace. What did the girl do to deserve me?”

There was amusement in his thick voice, and he seemed familiar with the King, more than a vassal of the King’s grandfather should have been.

Joffrey laughed, “Her family has insulted the Crown. She was meant to be my Queen, but she will have to settle for being the Hound’s wife instead.”

“A fitting punishment,” Clegane nodded. “When can I see her?”

Joffrey clapped his hands together and called to her, “Lady Sansa, step forward and meet your betrothed.”

She did not hesitate and she did not show fear. She stepped out of the gallery and approached the throne, stopping when she was next to Lord Clegane. Her study of Lord Clegane had prepared her enough not to startle when he looked directly at her. Sansa stood with her back straight and her chin held high as he studied her. His eyes took in her face before traveling down her gown-clad body and back up again. Lord Clegane said nothing and his face betrayed nothing of what he thought of her.

His eyes locked to her Tully blue ones and she almost smiled at the familiarity of their grey color. Her father had eyes those color. Though his face was not easy to behold, she thought she would be okay as long as she could look him in his Northern-esque eyes.

Lord Clegane broke their prolonged staring and looked to the King. “She’ll do.”

Joffrey laughed and clapped again. Sansa wondered how she could have ever been infatuated with the young man who acted such a fool.

“Excellent! The wedding will be in two days’ time and then you can bring your new wife home to Clegane Keep,” Joffrey laughed as if he had told a funny jape. “I’m sure she’ll find it just to her liking.”

“As you say, your grace.”

The King dismissed Court without hearing any petitioners and the lords and ladies began to mingle and file out of the throne room once Joffrey had disappeared with the members of the Small Council who had been present. None of them came to her, ignoring her other than to stare and whisper as they had done since the King had broken their betrothal. Sansa caught sight of Lord Clegane leaving the room and followed, trying to catch up without having to run. Ladies did not run in public.

His legs were longer than hers, however, so there was no way she could walk as fast as him. Lord Clegane turned into a corridor with no other courtiers in it, so she felt more comfortable attempting to catch his attention.

“Lord Clegane,” she called. He stopped several doorways away from her and turned around. If he was surprised at being followed, he did not show it. If anything, he seemed annoyed, but he stayed where he was as she walked closer. 

Sansa waited until she was within a respectable distance to address him again. “I was wondering if you would take your lunch with me in the gardens, my lord?”

His eyebrows quirked, “Why would I do that?”

She would get used to his gruffness, she knew she would. Gruffness was better than malice, and she did not think him a malicious man.

“We are to be wed soon, I thought it better if we did not go into the union as strangers, my lord.”

“Eating pastries surrounded by flowers is not going to turn this monster into a shining knight, girl,” he almost growled as he gestured to his face. He bent slightly as he did, bringing him closer to her height so she could get a better view of his scars.

But Sansa was of the North, and the North was a much different place than the South. They valued strength, resilience and loyalty more than the beauty, titles and honors that was most important in the South. She had grown up around men who had lost limbs to the cold, women without a single tooth and more than one Northerner who had scars of one type or another covering their bodies. His scars probably would have made a different lady run screaming, but Sansa was a Stark.

“Do I look afraid, my lord?”

She could feel his warm breath puffing on her face as he kept his close to hers. Sansa did not pull away. Lord Clegane was looking for falsehoods in her eyes, but he would not find them there. He straightened and took a further step back from her with a sigh that was full of annoyance and confusion and resignation.

“Let’s get this over with,” he bit out, and Sansa hid a small smile by turning and leading the way to the gardens.

They did not speak as they walked, Lord Clegane on her right side so his scars were not facing her, but she was not upset. She kept up a pleasant smile and politely stopped a serving boy to request two meals be brought to them in the gardens. The boy looked from her to Lord Clegane and hurried away to complete her request at whatever look the lord had given him.

Lord Clegane’s presence was fairly intimidating, but she did not feel fear at his size. Her father had been a large man, not as large as her betrothed of course, and he was a good man. Mayhaps her betrothed would be a good man as well. She wondered what would happen if she were to take his arm, like a proper lady being escorted by her lord. He would probably growl at her again, and thinking about it made her bite back a giggle.

In the gardens, they sat across from each other at a small table and waited for the food to be brought out to them. It was not a setting made for Lord Clegane, the chairs and tables both looking too small for his form. His face had not come out of its grumpy expression since she had spoken to him, and his mood did not seem to be lifting as they waited in silence.

“What is Clegane Keep like, my lord?”

She thought he might refuse to speak at all when he took some moments to answer.

“Bleak.”

“I’m sure it will be a fine home. Mayhaps it just needs a lady’s touch.”

“Aye, mayhaps. Neither of my brother’s wives did live long enough to make any changes around the keep.”

She wondered if he was still trying to frighten her or if he was only speaking the truth.

“You have a brother, my lord?”

“Had a brother,” he corrected. “The Mountain that Rides was struck down in the Greyjoy Rebellion, so I inherited the title and lands while he burns in the Seven Hells.”

The proper thing would be to express her condolences at the loss of his kin, but Sansa had a feeling he would not appreciate the thought, so she only nodded in understanding.

“What do you expect of me as a wife?”

Lord Clegane raised his brows at her again, “I expect you not to fight when I want to fuck you.”

The blush on her cheeks was involuntary and she buried her indignation at his crass words. She supposed she would have to get used to it.

“I meant outside of the marriage bed, as the lady of the keep.”

He shrugged, “Do as you please. I oversee the men and the animals and sometimes listen to the smallfolk bitch about one thing or another. Outside of those things, take over whatever duties you wish to.”

Two serving boys came up to the table then with plates of food and goblets to fill with wine. Sansa thanked them when they had set everything on the table and they hurried away with quick bows. She plucked a grape from her plate and Lord Clegane began to eat the bread and meat on his.

“Are there a lot of soldiers at the keep?”

He nodded and spoke with his mouth still full of food, “’twas the only thing me brother did right, training the men. Our lands hold about a thousand fighting men and green boys.”

She considered this and considered if she could ask a favor of her betrothed this early in their meeting. Sansa would be leaving the capital with her new husband by the end of the week, but she needed her sister to go with her, or her family would never forgive her for abandoning Arya.

“You must have a blacksmith then, with all that armor and weaponry to make.”

If he thought her question odd, he said nothing about it. Instead, he shook his head.

“We are not far from Lannisport. We get our supplies there.”

“I wonder if I might beg a kindness of you, my lord.”

“’m not known for being kind,” he told her, but he hadn’t said no, so she asked anyway.

“It was announced yesterday by the King that my younger sister is to marry a blacksmith boy from Flea Bottom. I had hoped that we could take my sister with us to your keep if work could be found for her betrothed.”

Lord Clegane was quiet again as he continued eating, and Sansa hoped he was truly considering her request.

“It probably wouldn’t be for long,” she added. “I’m sure my brother will send for them soon after he hears the news. I just do not want to leave my sister in this city alone. My family would be ever so grateful that you have kept us both safe.”

“And what would your family’s gratefulness do for me?”

Sansa’s brow furrowed, “Have you not been told who I am?”

She didn’t like how self-important the question sounded. She had never had to explain who she was to someone before and the informal nature of her betrothed made explaining that much more uncomfortable. He did not seem a man to care for names and titles and lineages.

“A highborn girl whose family upset the King,” he answered.

Her back straightened even further from her polite posture, pride filling her as it always did as she thought of the history and legacy of her house.

“I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell, daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully and sister of the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden in the North.”

He barked out a laugh, “And now you’re to marry this old dog, eh?”

“Seems like.”

“Must have been some insult.”

She did not respond and ate more of her lunch while silence fell around them again. It was some time before Lord Clegane spoke.

“The girl and the blacksmith can come with us, but I better be getting a hell of a dowry for putting up with you both.”

Sansa smiled into a handkerchief as she dabbed away the nonexistent crumbs around her mouth, “I’m sure you and Robb can come to an agreement on the amount of gold dealing with Arya is worth.”

“And you?”

“I am not nearly as difficult,” she smiled fully at him. “Trust me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Had some inspiration to write Lord Sandor with a more Northern Sansa where she doesn't really give a shit about his scars/demeanor
> 
> Have some ideas for other parts, but this is a one shot for now
> 
> also check out my fanfiction blog FANFICED.com and catch me on twitter @FANFICED


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